


The Problem with Improperly Shelved Books

by McKay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: After Sirius' death, all Remus wants is to be left alone, but an unexpected invasion of his haven proves less annoying than he thought it would be.





	The Problem with Improperly Shelved Books

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2004.

_Every morning in the summer, Remus Lupin woke up, breakfasted quietly before any Weasleys invaded the kitchen, and made a beeline for the library, where he generally spent the rest of the day._

_On this particular morning, however, Percy Weasley was in his library. Remus frowned vaguely at the young man, wondering where on earth he'd come from. The news spread through the Order like a ladder in a cheap pair of tights, of course, that Percy Weasley had been made redundant at the Ministry a few days ago._

_But why was he here, in Remus' library, of all places?_

* * *

Remus Lupin had always been known as a quiet man, but in the weeks following Sirius' death, he made a gradual shift from "quiet" to "withdrawn". It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Molly's attempts to make him feel better by feeding him, or Tonks' attempts to cheer him up; he knew that his friends were trying to help in their own ways, but he also knew that they could never understand what he was going through. The only one who could was Harry, but Harry was with the Dursleys again, and although Remus was tempted to visit, the tone of Harry's letters let him know that Harry needed time to sort things out on his own, too. 

Eventually, he realized that they would likely be less worried about him if he made it seem as though his desire for solitude was a work-related necessity rather than a choice, thus he went to Albus and requested something -- anything -- to research. Albus put him to work researching the construction and non-fatal destruction of magical wards, and Remus made a point of telling everyone who was in and out of #12 Grimmauld Place on a regular basis that he had a Very Important Job to do, which necessitated much time in the library, and could he please be disturbed as little as possible?

He could practically hear the collective sigh of relief. If Remus was working, he must be all right -- and that was exactly the conclusion he wanted them to reach. Molly stopped plying him with food, Arthur stopped trying to tell him Muggle jokes to which he had forgotten the punchline, and Fred and George began testing their products on him without his prior knowledge again. All was right with the world. 

He even fell into a comfortable routine. Every morning in the summer, he woke up, breakfasted quietly before any Weasleys invaded the kitchen, and made a beeline for the library, where he generally spent the rest of the day.

On this particular morning, however, Percy Weasley was in his library. Remus frowned vaguely at the young man, wondering where on earth he'd come from. The news spread through the Order like a ladder in a cheap pair of tights, of course, that Percy Weasley had been made redundant at the Ministry a few days ago. 

But why was he here, in Remus' library, of all places?

"Was there something you wanted?" Remus stood in the doorway, watching Percy as he paced up and down in front of the shelves without actually looking at any of the titles. "Perhaps I could help you find it. I'm familiar with the collection."

"What?" Percy glanced up, and for a moment, he seemed as disgruntled to see Remus as Remus had been to see him. "Oh. No. Thank you," he tacked on belatedly. "I was just..." He gestured with one hand, a meaningless wave that indicated nothing. "Just looking around."

Nodding, Remus crossed the room to the desk where he usually worked, sat down, and opened the thick, leather-bound text to the chapter where he had left off the evening before. He was curious about Percy's reasons for "just looking around" in the library, but he was likely the last person Percy would choose to confide in. Perhaps it was the truth, anyway. Perhaps Percy was merely acquainting himself with parts of the house he hadn't seen before. 

Percy had come to the Black house a handful of times since his reconciliation with his family, but he had stayed mostly in the kitchen and parlor during each stiff, awkward visit. Things were getting better between the formerly estranged Weasleys, but even from what little he had seen, Remus knew it had been and continued to be difficult for Percy. 

Picking up his quill, he retrieved a fresh sheet of parchment, preparing to take notes, and began to read, trying to tune out the sound of footsteps muffled on the thick rug or occasionally ringing out when Percy stepped off the rug onto the hardwood floor. After fifteen minutes or so, however, even his powers of concentration weren't enough to ignore the presence of another person in the room, especially given said person couldn't seem to be still for ten seconds, and he put down his quill and turned to look at Percy. 

"You're sure I can't help you find a book?" he asked, and Percy stopped pacing and gazed back at him, shoving his hands in his pockets. With his thick curls unruly and his robes rumpled, he looked like a little boy who had been caught in mischief -- a most uncharacteristic look. 

"No, really, I'm fine." Percy mustered a sickly smile. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Not at all," Remus lied smoothly. 

"What are you working on? Or -- no, I suppose you _can't_ tell me," he said, answering his own question before Remus could even open his mouth. 

"I'm researching wards," Remus said. "Beyond that, no, I can't discuss it with you."

Percy nodded and moved to the window, leaning one shoulder against the wall as he stared out at the garden, which was better for Remus' concentration since at least he was still, but not better for Remus' peace of mind where Percy was concerned. Closing the book, he pushed back his chair and stood up, approaching Percy slowly. 

"You seem a bit distracted," he remarked, leaving it as a statement rather than a question to let Percy know he wasn't being pressured into answering if he didn't want to. 

"I lost my job," Percy said, still staring out the window. "You probably know that already." 

"Yes. I was sorry to hear it."

"They said it was because of budget cuts, but I know the truth. They didn't trust me because I was loyal to Minister Fudge. The didn't want me around now that he's out of power."

"You're a bright, talented young man. You'll find another job."

"I don't want another job," Percy said softly. "I want _my_ job."

It was on the tip of Remus' tongue to say something glibly reassuring, to parrot some of the things he had been told over the past few weeks as he mourned the loss of his brother yet again, but then he remembered the day he handed in his resignation to Albus, a pang of loss and regret twisting in his stomach anew. "I know how you feel," he said instead. "It isn't easy losing your niche."

Percy's face twisted as with pain, and he whirled away from Remus, returning to the shelves of books and trailing his fingertips along their spines; Remus watched him silently for a moment, remaining at the window. 

"Why did you come in here?" he asked at last, and Percy stopped pacing to look at him again. 

"I like libraries," Percy said simply. "They're orderly. Every book has a place to belong, and you can find it where it's meant to be." He paused and then frowned. "Unless someone doesn't put it back where it belongs. I don't like it when books aren't in their proper place." Shaking his head, he began stroking the spines of the books again. "I'm an improperly shelved book."

Remus stared at him, astounded. So simple and yet so true -- Remus was an improperly shelved book, too. He kept finding a niche to settle in only to have it taken away or to watch it disappear. Over and over and over. His life had been one long, fruitless search for a place to belong, and he still hadn't found it. He thought he had at times, but he had always been wrong. 

"I know," he said, and Percy's eyes widened behind his glasses. 

"Do you?" Percy's voice was scarcely above a whisper, and he looked so young -- too young to have such empty devastation in his eyes -- that Remus was half-way to him before he stopped to think about the wisdom of his action. 

But Percy didn't back away, and Remus reached out slowly, giving him plenty of time to retreat before sliding his arms around Percy's shoulders and pulling him near. "I do know," he murmured, rubbing Percy's rigid back in small, soothing circles until he felt the tense shoulders begin to shake, until Percy sagged against him, winding his arms around Remus' waist. 

He didn't speak; he knew there weren't any words that would make Percy feel better. Instead, he stroked Percy's tight, tousled curls and held him close, waiting until he felt Percy begin to relax before releasing his comforting hold. Eventually, Percy pulled back and took off his glasses, turning away to swipe at his eyes with his sleeve. 

"I'm sorry," Percy said. "I didn't mean to do that."

"It's quite all right." Remus fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it, and Percy mumbled his thanks as he took it and blew his nose noisily. "You'll survive this, Percy. You'll survive, even though you may sometimes think you won't, and it will make you stronger."

"What about my niche?" he asked, his voice still watery. 

"You'll find another." Remus paused and then added hesitantly, "Perhaps you could start here, in the library."

Percy darted a startled glance at him. "You wouldn't mind?"

"No." Remus smiled and shook his head. "I'd like the company." 

To his surprise, he meant it. Likely this library was a temporary niche for both of them, and eventually, they would move on. But for now, it was a place of respite and, he thought as he watched Percy finally select a book and settle in a chair near the window, a place of healing for an unlikely pair who were quiet, but withdrawn no longer.


End file.
